


for a day

by aPaperCupCut



Series: misc uncompleted fics [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, discontinued and uncompleted, just an interesting idea i had, just the first scene of the game. thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPaperCupCut/pseuds/aPaperCupCut
Summary: look, i hate those fics that have five billion different fandoms because its just a compiled book of uncompleted fics from different fandoms. if ur gonna do it, do it with a single fandom. in this case, the only reason its not with my other uncompleted da fic is because these might be continued one day.anyway, just liked how this was written, so im sharing.title refers toKasabian's III Ray (The King)because i have no self control





	for a day

**Author's Note:**

> look, i hate those fics that have five billion different fandoms because its just a compiled book of uncompleted fics from different fandoms. if ur gonna do it, do it with a single fandom. in this case, the only reason its not with my other uncompleted da fic is because these might be continued one day.
> 
> anyway, just liked how this was written, so im sharing.
> 
> title refers to [Kasabian's III Ray (The King)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf3CPnDMVz0&list=PLRY4MYm28Wv2ryEfQkKvbWgJbhR93FoRY&index=176&t=0s) because i have no self control

They wake up.

It's not slow; not like a flame, sputtering and sparking into the air. It is like they were not even there, until they were.

They blink stupidly, dazed, head ringing with an emptiness they don't have the energy to think of. The world is curiously dark; there is the distant sound of dripping water, and a damp quality to the stagnant air. Underground. They are underground, somewhere.

Their head is a heavy, listing weight on their neck; even as they feel threatened with the notion of drifting away, their vision floaty and wobbling back and forth, they are pinned to the ground. Their lungs expand; they breathe in. The room is so very dark, and they are struck with deja vu. The sensation of repetition; it is more tedious than concerning.

Again, they try to move their head about, try to get their bearings. There is torchlight to their left, but they can't manage to turn enough to pinpoint exactly where. But it is enough to register that time has passed since they've awoken, and the dark, underground place they've found themself in is no longer quite so dark. Dimly lit, yes, but not pitch black with things shifting about and making craggy noises at them. 

With the lighting, they realize they are chained, and that iron bars separate them from the greater room; iron bars that intersect, creating a hallway amidst a series of cells. One such damp cell is where they are located, unable to move from their slumped, kneeling position.

They also realize, belatedly, that they are not actually alone. Beyond the bars of the cell is another; tall, armed and armoured. The stranger has not glanced at them at all; not once. They find themself worried about that.

The clang of steel on stone breaks their mood; the person standing guard - and why would they be standing guard? over what, and why? what made them think that the other was a guard? - startles, and fumbles at the spear grasped in their hand.

"Where is the prisoner?!"

They jump, heart suddenly climbing up their throat, their fingers shaking and they think,  _ calm down, calm down, it's just a sound, just a sound in the halflight, _ and they think it with an utter calmness that their body just won't listen to. Stupid body. They aren't alarmed at all, and yet they can't still the shivers that overtake their limbs.

The stranger, who does not seem to notice their struggle with their rebellious body, calls out. "He's this way, serah!"

There's an echo of footsteps, and two others breach the dim circle of torchlight.

One is almost a shade, for how thin they are is shockingly obvious. They stand at a tilt, face shadowed, features hidden. Their companion, however, is completely different.

They are solid, made of stone; broad shoulders cut cleanly into a straight back, heavy armour impeccably kept. Their hair is dark, swept over one shoulder in a contrast of delicacy. They don't look too happy; no, they are the very visage of contempt and rage.

And the ire of this bold warrior is directed solely to they on the floor; they, who cannot even stand, and they know that they are weak without even trying. They know the fear of death, and with that fear comes a jolt to their calm state.

And suddenly they aren't feeling so calm; suddenly, their body is exactly right for panicking the way it is.

"What do you have to say for yourself? Do have any defense at all for what you've done?!"


End file.
